I tighten the green and silver infused tie up to my neck using the mirror for reference.
I stare back at the dark circles beneath my eyes reflecting the lack of sleep from the night prior. My hair is damp from the shower, and my eyes are bloodshot red; refusing to accept the contact for my right eye.
I drape the circular glasses over my nose that still have profound cracks in both lenses.
Lightly hung over, emotionally violated and severely lacking rest, I finally gain the gumption to make it to the first class of the year.
Potions.
I enter the eerie classroom that solely relies on minimal natural lighting. Minor sunshine emits through the glass stained windows and candles are evenly distributed throughout the room. Cauldrons are positioned on each table overflowing with holographic smoke.
"Oi! Look who it is!" Ron approaches me with a warm welcoming smile. "I thought I'd never see you again after running off from the ceremony like that. Best be seeing you at the first-year initiation celebration tonight, mate. Everyone will be there. It's the biggest party of the year!"
I uncomfortably scratch the back of my neck feeling my cheeks burn. "Em.. I'm not in the most social of moods. Don't feel there's much for myself to celebrate," I answer honesty.
"Don't worry mate," Ron reassures, throwing an arm around my shoulders and guiding me toward his seat. "That sorting hat's been around for centuries. Surely it's bound to make a mistake at some point or another."
We approach the group of Gryffindors surrounding Ron's table snickering and whispering to one another. As expected, their eyes remain glued to me silently judging my every move.
Harry Potter, the 'Boy Who Lived'; a controversial Slytherin, befriending Ron Weasley; the eccentric outspoken redhead whose family represents the Gryffindor house with great pride.
Both pinnacles of their respective, opposing houses.
I've already been doing quite the number on myself ever since the grim revelation of my parents' history, and I have little patience receiving the same scrutiny from those who don't even know me.
"And besides." Ron stops in place turning to me. He squares my shoulders with his hands so I'm forced to look at him. "You are a Gryffindor. At least to me."
"Thanks mate," I mutter forcing a smile.
Unfortunately, his kind words leave little effect, as I glance to the Gryffindors behind him who clearly aren't in agreement. They continue to giggle amongst themselves, some even pointing directly at me.
I had left that 'muggle' town of mine to find a new life; a life in which I wasn't constantly objectified as a freak.
My 'dark inner fire', as the hat accurately depicted, ignites with unkempt flames.
I had received enough bullying in high school for not fitting in. If I couldn't even fit in here, I'm certain I will never find where I truly belong.
Oh! And to make matters worse, my bum eye starts spazzing again.
At this point I had come attuned to the fact that it was triggered by that inner fire, that inner Slytherin, that was desperately waiting; yearning to unleash at any moment.
I half-mindedly rub my eye as I grit my teeth.
"You alright, Harry?" Ron asks.
"Maybe he's color blind," one of them taunts. "Your tie has green in it, Potter. Not red."
I spot Hermione who, despite being a Gryffindor herself, looks at her housemates in disgust. She snarls at them with an attitudinal hip jutted to the side.
"Shut it, Dean," she scolds. She gracefully makes her way toward me with her wand, not so gracefully, pointed directly between my eyes.
I instinctively hop back with both hands held above my shoulders. Based off the woman's intimidating repertoire of knowledge in wizardry, I had no clue what she was planning on doing next.
"Bloody hell Harry, hold still!" Hermione demands widening my eyes; the tip of her wand held directly between them. "Oculus Reparo."
A quick sound, something like a tree branch snapping, crackles from her wand as the jagged cracks in my lenses disappear.
My jaw drops as I remove the glasses from my face.
"Brilliant!" Ron interchangeably gawks at Hermione and my repaired spectacles.
I join in on Ron's rapid transitional line of vision.
"Thank you Hermione.. Thank you Ron, for everything," I mutter slowly backing away from the Gryffindors. "You've both been brilliant since we met.. but I don't belong at this table. The more I learn about myself, the more I believe that I truly am a.. I'm a-"
"A Slytherin." Malfoy approaches us with a discontent look on his face. He scoffs at Ron before saying, "My condolences to your tattered textbook, Weasley. How many generations did that one make it through? And your robes? Your knickers?"
I wince at the uncalled-for statement.
"Why so fussy, Malfoy?" Ron shoots back. "Lack of sleep; not having Daddy here to tuck you into bed last night?"
"What did you just say to me?" he growls through gritted teeth."You filthy peasant."
"Stop it!" Hermione orders startling us. "The both of you!"
"Oh! Look who we have here." Malfoy's whole demeanor changes. The snarky, off putting façade remains.. well, snarky.. but there's a sudden addition of charm to his tone. "Granger; our new muggle born. Isn't that right?"
"And who are you?" she challenges, maintaining a confident stance while looking down her nose at him.
"Draco Malfoy." He does a quick bow as a devilish smirk crosses his lips. The sleezeball grabs Hermione's hand while demanding eye contact from her. She skeptically peers at him as he plants a quick kiss on the back of her hand. "Pleasure's all mine. Father failed to mention how beautiful you are."
Hermione's cheeks pinken as she tears her hand from his. She scoffs with a slight look of noticeable intrigue.
"Honestly, Malfoy," I interject in annoyance. "What is with your invasive knowledge of every single bloody person at this school?"
"Only the special ones," he cunningly replies keeping his eyes on her.
"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron threatens in slight.. jealousy? "Leave Hermione alone."
"My apologies Weasley; was never my intention to impede on your girlfriend."
Before Ron, who looks like he was about to backhand Malfoy, has the chance, the door slams open silencing everyone in the room.
A tall melancholy man with long black hair and a distinctive hooked nose rushes to the front of the room. He's dressed in black from head to toe with a cape-like robe that swirls in the air as he walks past.
I shake my head giving Ron and Hermione a silent apology for my housemate's rude gestures.
I shove Malfoy in the direction of our table who defiantly lashes an arm away from me. As I follow my moody roommate to our seats, I notice a pair of footsteps scurrying behind me.
"There will be no wand waving, or silly incantations in this class." The professor demands our attention. "You will all refer to me as Professor Snape."
Once seated, I throw my book bag on the table and notice from my peripheral that Hermione had trailed behind us and was now seated beside me. She gives a quick smile before focusing her attention to the front of the classroom.
My mouth twists failing to hold back a smile. I lean my face in the palm of my hand, my right hand, so as to not get distracted by the enchanting witch beside me.
"Those of you will succeed.." Professor Snape continues his rant as his eyes dart to Malfoy on the other side of me. "..who possess the predisposition."
Draco nods his head, with stern eye contact and a smirk of admiration, as if he and Snape had some sort of understanding.
"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper on death."
My ears perk at the captivating line, and my thoughts begin to wander:
If only I had learned in my infancy how to put a stopper on death and spare my biological parents.
If only my fame wasn't derivative from essentially that same sentiment.
If only they hadn't given life to someone who would someday become some sort of spawn of the very same entity who slaughtered them.
"And then, there are those who feel confident enough to not pay attention!" Snape's voice elevates a tremendous amount causing my neck to snap up at him.
His black eyes pierce through mine with the look of thorough hatred. He makes his way from his post in a rush toward me.
"Mr. Potter," he slickly remarks. "Our new celebrity."
I peer to the opposite side of the room breaking our mutual glare. My breathing accelerates and I can feel my heart pounding in my ears.
If I hear one more reference about my 'celebrity' or being 'famous' for getting my biological parents killed, I'll go mental.
The professor pelts me with questions regarding the course, using words I never knew existed. It's the first fucking class of the year, and he expects me to know what the bloody hell a bezoar is?
From the corner of my eye, I notice Hermione eagerly raising her hand in an attempt to answer each question thrown at me.
Snape ignores her, lowering his face to mine with a stoic expression. I notice that he looks more closely at my right eye.
"How unfortunate," he continues. "Clearly fame isn't everything."
My teeth are clenched and I'm seeing red.
"Or clearly, Hermione knows all of the bloody answers!" I seethe, rapidly gesturing to her. "So why don't you get off my arse and call on her like professors are supposed to do?"
The crowd gives a resounding gasp. Hermione promptly lowers her arm and I look to find her peering back at me in trepidation.
"How dare you speak to me in such a way," Professor Snape lectures in an elongated manner.
I suddenly feel Hermione's hand on my thigh, and she squeezes it as some type of warning. I take another quick glance at her who's concernedly shaking her head.
I look to my left at my friend – I mean roommate -
Whatever the bloody hell he was; I haven't fully decided yet.
Anyways.. I look to my left, and I'm not surprised to find Malfoy staring in my direction like the rest of the class.
But what does surprise me is how his eyes disapprovingly glare, almost in an envious manner, at Hermione's hand in my lap visible from beneath the table.
Malfoy narrows his eyes at me before turning back to his idolized teacher.
Aside from not having many people disagree with him to his face, I also have a good idea that the bloke was possessive; if Malfoy didn't get what he wanted, it wouldn't end well for those who did, in fact, possess it.
I squeeze my eyes shut and deeply inhale while running a hand through my hair. I'd officially reached the level of irritation that my right eye was now burning, and I had to get out of there before it's reptilian appearance made a debut.
"Have you failed to realize that I'm the Head of Slytherin?!" Professor Snape spits just inches from my face. "Your Head of House?!"
I brush Hermione's hand from my lap as I pack my things.
"10 points from Slytherin." My table groans as I clumsily throw my legs over the bench and stand to my feet. "You can thank your new celebrity."
I stumble over my feet as I turn my back to Snape and make a run for the door.
"And just where do you think you're going, Mr. Potter?"
"I think it's best if I left," I inform without looking back. "Enough celebrity treatment for one day."
()
Hey all! I wanted to do a quick shout out to the very kind words I've received on this story. Been going through a lot lately, but I have so much gratitude for my readers and supporters! So, thank you. :)
I'm also excited for you to read the upcoming chapter as it's one of my favorites.
Until next time!
